


Adjustments

by dkwilliams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5066734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/pseuds/dkwilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape is beset by irritating changes in his life.  Can he adjust?  Does he want to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adjustments

**Author's Note:**

> CHALLENGE: Part of the Severus Snape Fuh-Q-Fest, Challenge #11. Snape is intolerant of his lover's youthful exuberance THANKS TO: My beta-editors, who were willing to take a chance on a Snape/Dumbledore story: Titti, Mac, Anino, and Shah-rhe.
> 
> Link to a lovely picture by Dee Double You [here - not work-safe](http://james.animenut.com/cgi-bin/i/dodge/ssad.jpg)

Severus Snape was well aware that a period of adjustment was necessary during any significant change in one's habits. He knew that taking on a life partner required patience and tact while differences were sorted out and compromises made. Since both items were sorely lacking in his personal makeup and he loathed compromise, he had never bothered to indulge in any long-term romances. Not, that is, until Albus Dumbledore had unexpectedly snogged him senseless one evening after tea and then invited him into his bed.

Snape was many things, but a fool he was not. Scientific curiosity alone demanded that he investigate whether the rumors of the Headmaster's…prowess were exaggerated. Pleased to discover that they were, if anything, underrated, Snape had readily accepted Dumbledore's suggestion of a long-term liaison, although not without some qualms.

Fortunately, Dumbledore wasn't a fool, either. There were no suggestions about Snape moving up or Dumbledore moving down. Instead, the castle obligingly rearranged itself so that a charming little stairway ran from Dumbledore's private parlor down to Snape's rooms. Visits either way could be made discreetly, their relationship could remain private, and no one's domain would be altered. Or, that was the theory, at any rate.

* * *

There was an annoying buzzing noise over his head. A damned familiar buzzing, one that he'd heard repetitively over the past two days. Snape ignored it and focused even more intently on the scrolls he was grading. Or tried to focus, until something small and hard smacked into his head.

"Dammit!" he snarled and slammed his quill down on the desk. "Albus!"

A moment later, Dumbledore padded into the room, looking around for something. "Severus, have you seen my helloplane?"

"It's. In. My. Hair," Snape said between clenched teeth.

"Ah, so it is!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, and began extracting it from the tangled locks. "So sorry, Severus. I don't seem to have the hang of this thing yet." He set the model helicopter on the desk and waved his wand, and the thing lifted shakily into the air. "How do you suppose Muggles manage to do this without magic?"

Snape winced as the unsteady craft narrowly missed knocking his inkwell over, and he glared at the Headmaster. "One assumes they have enough sense to take such destructive items _out side_ , where they are much less trouble."

Dumbledore's face brightened. "What a splendid idea! And it's such a beautiful afternoon. I'll just have the house elves put together a picnic lunch and we'll be ready to go in no time."

Snape blanched. " _Me_? Go on a _picnic_ with you?"

"Why, yes, Severus," Dumbledore said, giving him a look of innocent puzzlement. "A picnic isn't nearly as much fun alone, you know."

Snape _didn't_ know, never having been on a picnic, and he scowled as he gestured at his desk. "I have too much work to do. I cannot be going off to frolic about the place."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in a way that made Snape immediately tense. "Frolic? I didn't believe you knew that word." He plucked the quill out of Snape's hand and said, "It's end of term, Severus, and these scrolls can wait until tomorrow. What _cannot_ wait is this glorious weather."

"Albus…"

"For me?" Dumbledore asked, and Snape ground his teeth. _Really! Resorting to emotional blackmail now - how Slytherin!_ he thought with a snort, then took a closer look at the Headmaster. Dumbledore _did_ look a little worn down, now that Snape came to notice. All this bother about the Dark Lord and Fudge was wearing the man out. No doubt a bit of fresh air and sunshine would be beneficial, particularly if someone was there to make sure Dumbledore didn't over-exert himself.

Snape sighed. "Very well. For a few hours," he added, as Dumbledore beamed happily at him. "And I categorically refuse to 'frolic'. I shall sit and read and watch _you_ frolic."

Dumbledore smiled and took his hand, kissing the back of it in a way that Snape would tolerate only from him. "That's all I ask, dear heart."

* * *

Snape glared at Dumbledore as the Headmaster tiptoed into his lab, then turned his attention back to the potion he was making.

"What do _you_ want?" he snarled.

Dumbledore didn't seem perturbed by his bad mood. "I came to offer my assistance."

"Your _assistance_ ," he sneered, "is the reason I need this potion in the first place."

"Well, really, Severus," Dumbledore protested mildly. "I would have thought that _you_ , of all people, would have realized what kind of grass you were lying on."

The look Snape turned on him would have withered a lesser man. "If you'll recall, by that time I was a bit beyond noticing the flora around me."

Dumbledore's look turned mischievous. "You _did_ seem preoccupied by other…things. In fact, you didn't seem to be in any discomfort for quite a while afterward."

"You can laugh - you were kneeling on my robe. _I_ was the one lying starkers in the bloody blistergrass! 'Just watch', my arse," Snape muttered as he carefully distilled the potion into the waiting flask.

"And an incredibly fine arse it is."

Snape reflected that if any of the students had seen the way the Headmaster had just leered at him, they would have died of shock. The thought was almost enough to soothe his ire. "A painfully blistered arse," he corrected, his voice subdued but sulky.

"Since I'm the one responsible for your…condition, I insist on being allowed to ease your discomfort," Dumbledore said gallantly as he took the flask. "Remove your robes, Severus."

Grumbling, "that's what got me into this mess in the first place," Snape did so. He hadn't bothered with anything under his robe as his skin itched infernally when anything touched it. He bent over the worktable to make it easier for Dumbledore to smear the soothing cream over his back and posterior.

"Ohhh," Snape moaned as the salve soaked into his blistered skin. "Albus…that's…oh, yes! Right there! Ah..a little bit lower…and a little…harder…yessss…"

A sudden gasp from the doorway made Snape straighten abruptly and glance in that direction, just in time to catch one of the Sixth year Hufflepuffs standing open-mouthed in the entrance before she turned crimson and fled. He turned his glare on Dumbledore.

"Albus! You forgot to secure the door!"

* * *

"Severus, do you plan to stay in there all night?"

Dumbledore's voice drifted in through the bathroom door and Snape scowled as he sank lower in the tub. "Yes." The door opened and Dumbledore peered inside. "Alone."

"Now, Severus, it really isn't all that bad," Dumbledore said, totally ignoring Snape's wishes - as usual - and coming inside.

Snape gave him a sour look. "All right for _you_ to say that. You weren't displaying your arse for the world to see. And that student must think that we were…that we are…"

"We are," Dumbledore said matter-of-factly, closing the toilet lid and sitting down.

"We don't need the entire student population knowing that," Snape snapped. "Particularly not with visuals!"

"Not to worry, my dear boy. I've spoken with Miss Stonefield and explained the situation, and she's assured me that we can rely on her discretion."

"Bloody hell," Snape moaned, sinking deeper into the tub and contemplated drowning himself. "That twit's the biggest gossip in the school. She'll be dining on this for _months_."

"Trust me, Severus."

Snape muttered something about where Dumbledore could put his trust, but not loud enough for the other wizard to hear. Despite his current peeve, he was really quite…fond of the man, and the afternoon had been surprisingly pleasurably prior to his contretemps with the foliage. Seeing Dumbledore's face light up with delight as he played with the toy Weasley had given him for his birthday had been worth any little indignity, and as for their pastoral interlude…

"Budge up."

Dumbledore's voice close at hand brought him back from his reverie, and he realized with a shock that he'd almost been smiling. Fortunately, Dumbledore didn't seem to have noticed as he was occupied with disrobing. Snape slid forward to allow his lover room in the tub, not entirely certain about this novel situation but unwilling to refuse Dumbledore his little pleasures. The Headmaster pulled him back so that Snape was settled against his chest and sighed in contentment.

"Nothing like a hot soak together," Dumbledore said in satisfaction. "It only needs a few things to make it perfect." He waved his wand. "There!"

The Bloody Baron was nearly startled out of his ectoplasm by the indignant shriek from Professor Snape's chambers as he passed by.

" _Bubbles_? And a rubber _duck_? Are you _completely_ insane, Albus?"

* * *

Snape entered his chambers, feeling in a pleasant mood for a change. The students had gone home for the summer and he'd spent the past two weeks restocking Poppy's supply cabinet against the coming term. His lesson plans for the new year were all in order. Five more weeks of blissful freedom lay before him, the newest edition of Cauldrons Quarterly was in his hand, a new bottle of his favorite scotch was waiting on his sideboard, and rumor had it that Dumbledore had returned early from his meeting with the new Minister of Magic. So it was with high hopes that he stripped off his outer robe and his boots, carefully placing the latter by the door and the former on the coat rack, before heading into the bedroom.

Where he stepped on several sharp objects littering the floor.

"Peeves!" he roared, hopping on one foot as he attempted to extract the object from his foot. His foot tangled in a colorful gown lying discarded on the floor and he tumbled onto his arse, cursing loudly.

Dumbledore hurried in from the bathroom, the lemon scent wafting in with him telling Snape that - once again - the Headmaster had been defiling his tub with that noxious bubble bath. To add insult to injury, the man was wrapped in a bathrobe of a bilious shade of blue that made Snape wince.

"Severus, what's wrong?"

"Peeves has mined my room with caltrops," Snape said, holding up one of the offending objects. "Albus, you have _got_ to do something about him. He's a threat to life and limb."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, looking a bit sheepish. "I'm afraid those are mine, Severus."

Snape looked at Dumbledore blankly. "Why on earth would you throw caltrops about my room?"

"They're not caltrops, they're jacks," Dumbledore explained, his face lighting up with delight as gestured towards his newest find. "It's a Muggle game, quite delightful, really." He sat down on the floor by Snape and picked up a small rubber ball. "You see, you bounce this ball and attempt to grab - "

"Enough!" Snape snapped. "This is the last straw!"

Dumbledore looked up at him in surprise. "Whatever is wrong, Severus?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong," Snape snarled. He stood up, wincing a little as he put pressure on his bruised heel. "You invade my rooms with your toys and your bubble bath. You toss your robes all about the place - and have you ever thought of a nice, _subdued_ color like black? You disrupt my schedule and disregard my privacy. You - you - Albus, this is intolerable!"

Dumbledore stood and shook the dust from his robes as he nodded. "Quite right, Severus. I _have_ presumed a great deal too much. I shall banish my little nonsense back to my rooms."

"Thank you, Albus," Snape said, a little taken aback by how quickly the Headmaster had acquiesced to his demand.

"In fact, I believe I'll take myself off for a few days, give you a little peace and quiet about here, eh?" Dumbledore continued.

"Now that's not necessary, Albus - "

"Sirius invited us to join them for Harry's birthday in a few days. Eighteen years old - where have the years gone?" Dumbledore said. "Since I know you won't want to attend, I'll go a bit early and help them with the plans. I'll just pack a bag and be off."

"Albus, really - " Snape began, only to realize that Dumbledore had already disappeared up the stairs to his own rooms. He frowned; if it were anyone else other than Dumbledore, he might have suspected his lover of flouncing off in a huff, but the Headmaster didn't do things like that. All the same, a niggling little feeling inside, almost like guilt, reared its head and he wondered if he'd been a trifle bit harsh in his criticism.

He shook himself, dismissing that thought immediately. Dumbledore was not a shrinking violet, and if he'd hurt the man's feelings, he was certain he would have said so. Actually, the more he thought about it, the better a few days alone sounded.

* * *

On the first day after Dumbledore's departure, Snape found he was thoroughly enjoying himself. The dungeons were quiet and tranquil. His bath had been soothing and bubble-free. The rooms were once more tidy and devoid of brightly colored gowns and obnoxious Muggle toys. Everything was as it should be.

Now, he was settled before the fireplace, wrapped in his favorite black bedrobe. His chair was very comfortable and the warmth from the fire was just enough to lift the chill that permeated the dungeons even in the summer. The whiskey was smooth on his tongue, and the articles in Cauldron Quarterly were excellent.

He was especially intrigued by one of the articles and, without thinking, said, "Albus, listen to this. Reginald of Bath thinks that an infusion of mugwart with the standard Veritaserum might reduce the side effects of nausea and headache. He's wrong, of course, but at least _someone_ else is trying to use his brains for real research instead of churning out cosmetics for self-centered fools. I believe I'll owl him and…"

His voice trailed off as he suddenly realized that Dumbledore wasn't sitting in his chair on the other side of the fireplace, rustling his papers and drinking Snape's best whiskey. He frowned; he must have been reading longer than he'd thought as he was starting to develop a headache.

He set the periodical down on the table and stood up. He'd owl Reginald tomorrow.

* * *

On the second day after Dumbledore's departure, Snape frowned as he re-read the article he'd read the previous day. On second look, it wasn't _that_ good. There were several glaring flaws in the work and at least one enormous stretch of logic. He had a good mind to send this Reginald of Bath a scathing letter, since he'd obviously forgotten the elementary rules of research. First, however, he'd take a hot bath to relax his irritated nerves, if he could just find out where Dumbledore had put that damned bubble bath.

* * *

On the third day after Dumbledore's departure, Snape scowled and tossed his latest edition of Cauldron Quarterly in the fireplace. The useless rag wasn't worth the galleons he'd paid for it. The quality of work had gotten extremely shoddy lately - why, in this edition, he counted two misspelled words and one grammatical error! And they called themselves a first-class publication! He fully intended to write the editors a blistering letter, as soon as he managed to make this headache go away. It was just too damn quiet in here! And how was a man supposed to think in this drab and colorless tomb?

* * *

On the fourth day after Dumbledore's departure, which was coincidentally the last day of July, Snape stood in front of his wardrobe and scowled as he looked through the contents. Didn't he own anything that _wasn't_ black? And when had he fallen into such a rut? After all, there was nothing wrong with a deep green or a dark red, was there? Or a deep blue, perhaps. _Maybe Albus would be willing to give me a few ideas,_ he thought. He'd have to plan a trip to Madame Malkin's after he returned.

With a sigh, he selected one of the robes he never wore. It was still black but made out of damask, so when it caught the sunlight it appeared to have swirls of gray scattered over it. It had been a gift from Dumbledore several years ago and had hung untouched in his closet ever since.

Carefully, he laid it out on the freshly made bed and removed his toweling gown. His hair was mostly dry and he secured it at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon.

_Albus liked to loosen his hair, send it tumbling around his face and over the pillows._

He pulled the robe on over his black satin pants - well, really it was much too hot to wear a shirt and trousers under his robe - and carefully did up the buttons. He fastened his shoes and took a last critical look at himself in the mirror, then picked up two packages from the bed and walked into the sitting room. Throwing a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace, he announced, "Sirius Black's House" before stepping in.

Years of practice kept him from tumbling out onto the hearth on his arrival, and he took a moment to brush off the soot before he looked around at the stunned people standing in Black's living room. Snape raised an eyebrow in a way that made everyone look away quickly.

He sighted one of his prey and walked over to him. "Potter," he said briskly, extending one of the packages in his hands. "I understand it is your birthday. Congratulations."

Harry stared at him in surprise and stammered, "Y-yes. It is." He looked down a little suspiciously at the wrapped parcel. "Um…thanks."

Snape smirked. "Potions, Mr. Potter. I expect you'll have need of them in your new profession."

Harry grinned at him. "I expect I will. You know, the potions the Ministry medics use don't seem to work as well as Poppy's."

Snape snorted. "Not surprising, as I'm the one who supplies her while your mediwizards no doubt rely on instant mixes." He surreptitiously looked about the room.

Harry smirked. "If you're looking for Professor Dumbledore, he's out back in the garden."

Snape tried glaring at the insolent whelp but the effect seemed to have worn off somewhat because Harry's grin just widened. "He's been in a bit of a funk since he arrived, not at all his usual self. Sirius is trying to cheer him up."

Snape grimaced. While he certainly needed to speak with Dumbledore, he wasn't keen on getting anywhere near that wretched mutt.

"I'll show you the way. I think Remus needs Sirius in the kitchen - something about the cake."

Snape allowed himself to be led around the house to the small garden in the back. Black appeared to be having a go at Dumbledore's Muggle flying contraption while the Headmaster looked on politely, but Snape's keen eyes saw that the enthusiasm from the previous week was missing. Both men looked up as Harry and Snape entered the garden; Black scowled at the sight of the Potions master, but a bright smile lit Dumbledore's face.

"Hello, Snape," Black said, his lips curling up into a sneer.

"Black," Snape said coolly, nodding his head at the man. "My apologies for the lateness of my arrival - some matters I needed to tend to first."

"You needn't have rushed on our account," Black said sourly, then winced as Harry elbowed him.

"Remus needs your help in the kitchen, Sirius."

"Right." Black headed for the house, looking as if he'd received a second reprieve. Harry paused before following him.

"Cake and ice cream in fifteen, all right?"

"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore said, then turned his attention back to Snape. "You look very nice, Severus," he said, his twinkling eyes taking in the slight change in the other man's appearance. "However, I'm somewhat at a loss as I thought you preferred not to attend."

Snape shrugged. "My work took less time than I anticipated."

"Your _work_ , Severus?"

"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

"Say what?" Dumbledore asked, but Snape wasn't fooled by the innocent look on his face.

Snape closed his eyes briefly, fortifying himself for the required apology. "Very well. It was…too quiet without you. Oddly enough, I've come to…well, not _enjoy_ , but tolerate the chaos your presence in my rooms engenders." He cleared his throat and said so quietly that Dumbledore had to strain to hear him, "I _missed_ you, Albus. Come home. Please."

Dumbledore beamed at him, the twinkle restored to his eyes. "You only had to ask, my dear." He gestured at the package in Snape's hands. "Is that for me?"

Snape arched an eyebrow. "It is _Potter's_ birthday."

"And?"

Snape relented and handed over the package. Dumbledore happily tore off the wrapping paper to reveal a model engine replica of the Hogwarts Express.

"It's one of those Muggle train sets - Arthur Weasley assures me that the contraption lights up and blows steam, among other annoying things. It's been charmed to look like the Express. The rest of the train set and approximately a mile of track is laid out in my rooms. Oh, and this accompanies it," Snape added, pulling a rather squashed item out of his pocket. "Arthur assures me it is a required article of clothing."

Dumbledore's smile widened as he saw that it was an engineer's cap. He immediately pulled off his own hat and put on the cap. "How does it look?"

Snape stared at the small striped cap perched on top of Dumbledore's silver-white hair. "It's you," he said dryly.

Dumbledore chuckled and leaned forward to brush his lips over Snape's. "Thank you, dear heart. This means a great deal to me."

An embarrassed flush stained Snape's cheeks. "Really, Albus, it's nothing. A trifle. Not worth mentioning."

"I disagree." Dumbledore grasped Snape's robes and tugged him closer for a proper kiss. "I like these as well, although I must confess I am eager to revisit what lies underneath them."

Snape moaned as the effects of four nights' unaccustomed celibacy made themselves known and tried to deepen the kiss. When Dumbledore pulled back instead, he mumbled a protest and the Headmaster laughed.

"What if someone should catch us - what do the young people call it these days? - snogging?" he teased Snape.

"Might do them some good," Snape muttered. "Give that mutt some pointers." He dropped his head to rest on Dumbledore's shoulder. "Can we leave now?"

"Before the cake and ice cream? Terribly bad form, my dear boy. You shock me," Dumbledore said, amused. He brushed another kiss over Snape's lips, then released him and headed towards the house.

"Better you than everyone else," Snape muttered, straightening and making an effort to think of something disgusting to quell his libido. Black. In dog form. Naked and wet. With Trelawney.

Suppressing a shudder, he pulled himself together and followed Dumbledore.

* * *

It was dark in the dungeons, with only the light from the fireplace in the sitting room casting a faint glow into the bedroom. A brightly colored robe was tossed carelessly over the footboard of the bed, while a black robe lay crumpled on the floor near the doorway. The faint sound of a toy train whistle occasionally disturbed the tranquility of the rooms, but it seemed an oddly soothing sound to the man lying awake in the bed. Despite his fatigue and the blissful aching of his body, he had no desire to sleep at the moment. Instead, he was contemplating the changes in his life.

Severus Snape was well aware that a period of adjustment was necessary during any significant change in one's habits. He knew that taking on a life partner required patience and tact while differences were sorted out and compromises made. And as he stroked the hair of the man sleeping in his arms, he thought it just might be worth the effort.

* * *


End file.
